


Molding The Future (For What Is To Come)

by Pearl09



Series: Ineffable One-Shots [20]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Creation, Crowley Was Raphael Before Falling (Good Omens), Fluff, Humor, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pre-Fall (Good Omens), Sibling Rivalry, it's cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-19 11:35:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22176934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearl09/pseuds/Pearl09
Summary: It took a lot of work to make Earth – all of the angels were assigned jobs to try and get things to run smoothly. But when Raphael receives a challenge from his sister that isn’t something to do with stars, he turns to the best creator he knows for help – Aziraphale.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & OC
Series: Ineffable One-Shots [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1445479
Comments: 16
Kudos: 63
Collections: Good Omens Holiday Exchange 2019





	Molding The Future (For What Is To Come)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fluffy_teddybear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffy_teddybear/gifts).



> Here's the second part of the holiday exchange!! Hope you enjoy :)

Title: Molding The Future (For What Is To Come)

Recipient: fluffyteddybear

Rating: General

Pairings: Aziraphale/Crowley (as Raphael)

Warnings: None

Summary: It took a lot of work to make Earth – all of the angels were assigned jobs to try and get things to run smoothly. But when Raphael receives a challenge from his sister that isn’t something to do with stars, he turns to the best creator he knows for help – Aziraphale. 

They say that God created the world in seven days, alone. But what rationality is there behind that? How do you measure the length when the concept of time hadn’t existed yet and is abstract in Heaven anyway? Why hasn’t anyone asked God Herself to confirm or deny?

If you did ask Her, she’d laugh at how ridiculous that sounds. To create billions of flora and fauna, and design the geography, and write out the Great and Ineffable plans, all on Her own? Of course She had help. Why do you think the Bible never mentions the creation of the angels? After She’s had her laugh, She’ll sit you down to explain things properly, telling you how the Earth was really created with Her favorite love story.

~~~

Aziraphale sits hunched over the finished birch table, brow furrowed in concentration as he carefully sculpts the clay in front of him. His hands are covered in the gray material; proof of a hard day’s work. He molds the last of it into place before sitting back up, examining his work and checking it to see if he missed anything.

“What is that?”

Aziraphale jumps at the sudden voice – all the other angels were sitting around their separate tables and making their own things. They hardly ever talked to each other. He turns around in his seat to see who is talking to him, eyes landing on a red-headed angel with bright, golden eyes leaning against another table. “I can’t say the name just yet. I don’t know if it’s finished.”

The new angel stops leaning and climbs onto the bench next to Aziraphale. “It looks finished to me.”

“Well, you weren’t the one making it, were you? I need to make sure it’s perfect.” He turns his gaze back to the clay animal, trying to compare it to the image in his mind. The other angel just sits and watches. “Don’t you have anything else to do?”

He shrugs. “I’m bored of planning, so I wanted to see what was going on over here.”

Aziraphale turns to him again. “You’re one of the angels helping with the Great Plan?”

He barks out a laugh. “Oh, no. That is way beyond what I’m capable of. Lots of boring paperwork. That is not for me. I’m in charge of the stars – except, I was told I need to chart them before I can start placing them so that I know what they’ll look like. I just want to get to making them. The name’s Raphael.”

“I put that together when you started talking about the stars. I’m Aziraphale.”

“Aziraphale,” he repeats with a smile. “Has a nice ring to it.”

Aziraphale smiles back, turning once more to his clay sculpture. “I think it’s done.”

“Now do I get to know its name?”

“A duck.” With that, the clay begins to harden, turning lighter and lighter until it starts to crack. The cracks spread their fissures around the whole statue until the dried clay crumbles away, revealing the orange and white feathered creature. It quacks loudly as it frees its feet from the remaining clay before jumping into Aziraphale’s lap. 

“Isn’t he a funky little fellow,” Raphael smiles. 

With a quick miracle, Aziraphale’s hands are clean, so he picks the duck up and stands. “Well, I should get him to processing now. The other genders and the younger versions are easy to figure out over there, but they always take forever deciding on species. How many different variants will there be of the animal, what they all look like…” He shakes his head. “Don’t even get me started on trying to figure out where they’re going to live.” He moves around the bench to leave before saying, “It was nice to meet you, Raphael.”

He nods. “Gabriel runs that, doesn’t he? I’ve heard stories from him, so I can begin to imagine how it is over there. It was nice meeting you too. I’ll see you around, Aziraphale.”

With that, Aziraphale turns to leave, walking away as Raphael stays at the table, staring after him.

~~~

As Aziraphale walks over to processing cradling his latest creation in his hands – a chipmunk – he spots the back of a familiar red shade of hair. “Raphael!” he calls out, eager to show off his new creature. Raphael had seemed so interested in the duck the last time he saw him, he thought he might enjoy this one, too.

His smile fades to confusion when the angel turns around. Even though the red hair is certainly the same hue, and the eyes seem to be the same glittering gold, it isn’t Raphael. He doesn’t have gold freckling under his eyes, for a start. “You’re not Raphael.”

She shakes her head.

“But you look so–”

“Similar? Yeah, I get that a lot.” She walks closer to Aziraphale to hold a proper conversation. “I keep telling him one of us needs to cut out hair or something so people stop asking.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, stroking his thumb down the back of the chipmunk in thought. “Do you mind if I ask why you still answered to his name?”

“I’m Remiel,” She answers with a smile. “Raphael’s sister. Like, actual sister. Twin. It took the same lump of clay to make both of us. That’s why we practically look the same.” She extends her hand.

“Oh!” he says, shifting the chipmunk to one hand so he can take hers, giving it a short shake. “I hadn’t heard that God made any of the angels like that.”

“As far as I’m aware, we’re the only ones.” She folds her arms. “We probably argue enough that God didn’t want to deal with any more bickering angels, so She made sure the clay wouldn’t do that anymore.” She then gestures to the chipmunk. “It’s why you can create creatures like that without needing to worry about if you use the same clay as another or not.”

Aziraphale looks down at the chipmunk, which escapes his grip and climbs up his arm to rest on his shoulder. “You learn something new every day, I suppose. This is a chipmunk, by the way. And I’m Aziraphale.”

“Raphael told me about you,” she says, grinning. “He was so excited to be able to interrupt my work to tell me about the duck you had invented.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” he says, horrified. “I–”

“Don’t worry about it.” Remiel gestures with her head for them to start walking, escorting him over to the line for processing. “He would have found a way to do it with or without you. He’s always looking for excuses to get away from his own work and bother me, claiming that he isn’t a bother because I need something to inspire the music anyway.”

“You work in the music department?”

“I _am_ the music department. Not many angels want to plan for the human’s future. While we can’t control what the humans decide to do, we can still have things in place to influence them in different ways. Including what kinds of music they create and when.”

He shifts his weight around to his other foot. “I thought there were two of you?”

She shrugs. “There was. I kicked the other one out. Don’t know where they are now, but, I have the authority to do that. I still can’t believe they made heavy metal. They were already on thin ice for creating rap, but I let that slide… not this one though.”

“What’s that?”

Sighing, she stops walking and turns back around now that they’ve made it to the line full of other angels and animals waiting and chatting idly with others. “You’ll find out eventually. I guess it won’t be terrible, but – no, I’ll let you form opinions for yourself. It just seems like a sham to me.”

Aziraphale nods before gesturing with his thumb to the chipmunk nibbling on his ear. “Well, I better get this little guy all sorted out. I guess I’ll see you around?”

“Sure. I’ll tell Raphael you said hello.” She waves her goodbyes before walking off, leaving Aziraphale to wonder why Raphael had talked about him.

~~~

“Hey angel.”

Aziraphale turns around in his usual position at the table with a frown on his face. “I do have a name, Raphael.”

Raphael waves it off, sliding onto the bench with Aziraphale. “Yeah, yeah. I’m terrible with names. Can’t remember them half the time, and most of them sound the same. Uriel, Gabriel, Michael – it’s easier to use nicknames.”

“That’s a bit broad, though. We are literally surrounded by angels, so you could mean any one of them.”

“Not if I only use it for you,” he says with a wink.

Aziraphale shakes his head. “I suppose you don’t forget your sister’s name?”

“Oh, right! I knew there was something I wanted to talk to you about.” He rubs his hands together as he watches Aziraphale get back to work on the tiny clay sculpture in front of him, a magnifying glass pulled out so he can see. “Remi told me you thought she was me, and then proceeded to tell her usual ‘one of us should cut our hair’ spiel. And all I had wanted to do was ask if there would ever be music written about the stars. Knowing her, if I were to cut my hair, suddenly she’ll have cut hers too, and we’ll still be in the same predicament, so I just ignore it.”

“You sure do like talking, don’t you?” He shakes his head again. “What did she say about the music?”

“Hey, I’m by myself most of the time when I do star stuff, so I get lonely! I don’t know how anyone can stand to be in silence.” He leans his elbow on the table, resting his head in his hand. “Anyway, she said they will. Apparently, there’s this plan for the humans to think the stars are romantic or something. But then, because I was annoying her, she promised the most popular one would be a little kids song.”

Aziraphale pauses from his work, looking up to Raphael. “You know if you’re so lonely… I don’t mind you bringing your plans over here. Only if you’d want to, of course.”

He picks his head up as a smile grows across his face, but before he can reply, they are interrupted.

“Raphael?”

He turns quickly. “Gabe? What are you doing here?”

Gabriel smiles, stopping by the table. Aziraphale pretends to go back to his sculpture, but he can’t help but listen in on the conversation.

“I’m taking a break! I thought coming over here and making something would give me a better idea for things in processing.”

Raphael nods. “Yeah. Sure. Sounds great. Any idea how to make an animal?”

He chuckles. “It can’t be that hard. Throw a bunch of pieces together, right? Like a mole with a beavertail. Or a duckbill. Or both!”

“Mhmm. Wonderful. You know you have to name it too, right?”

“Psh, of course! It’ll be a platypus. Better get started!” He walks away to find an empty table, leaving Raphael to bury his face in his hands with a groan. 

He parts his fingers to peek out of them when Aziraphale sighs rather loudly next to him. “You okay?”

“Oh, it’s not that important. Silly, really. It’s just – if Gabriel’s here, that means Sandalphon is probably running the show over in processing. And when Sandalphon gets his hands on something, he tends to turn them bad in some of their species.” He puts down the small tool he was using to help shape the clay dejectedly.

“That sounds terrible! But also just like Sandalphon.” He pulls the rest of his face out of his hands, leaning close to examine the sculpture. “Can I ask what it’s supposed to do?”

“It’s supposed to pollinate the plants by collecting their pollen and carrying it around with them to others. How else will some of the plants be able to reproduce? They don’t have any other means of making more seeds.” He sighs again. “It’s called a bee.”

With such a small sculpture, the process is harder to see, but soon enough, the bee shakes the last of the clay off of its wings before jumping up and flying around between Aziraphale and Raphael, buzzing in their faces.

“I guess I should take her over and get it all sorted out now. No use in waiting when the smaller insects seem to get the most variation in different species.”

“Want me to come with? I might be able to convince him otherwise.”

He shakes his head. “It will be okay. You have other more important things to do.”

“I’ll come back – soon!” he promises, a slightly worried look on his face.

Aziraphale smiles back. “Sure. Soon.”

~~~

The thud of parchment and the clattering of pencils shortly thereafter on the table next to Aziraphale causes him to jump. Luckily, he had just been pulling some more clay out of the bucket, so the still formless sculpture in front of him wasn’t messed up. Raphael follows shortly after the papers, hopping over the bench to sit and spread the chart out. “I’ve decided I’m going to make some of these constellations based on different animals. What about a lion? Or a bear? Or two bears?”

“Hello to you too,” Aziraphale says, dropping the clay in front of him. “I guess you found some more inspiration to actually do your work, huh?”

He looks to Aziraphale with a smile. “It certainly helps that you said I can sit over here with you. Though, I probably should have told someone first…” he shrugs. “Oh well. They’ll find me eventually. How did the thing with the bees go?”

Aziraphale starts to knead the clay to get started. “Oh, it was awful. Sandalphon kept me forever, I’m surprised I returned before you did. He accepted the bee, the way it is, but he changed its name! Now it’s a bumblebee. And you want to take a guess how many different species he made?”

“Twelve?”

“Twenty-thousand! Twenty-thousand different species, some of which were only slightly different from the others! And you want to know what’s worse?”

“Hmm, knowing Sandalphon, it could be anything.”

“He said he liked my idea and is going to use it as inspiration for one of his own! And you know what Sandalphon does with his creatures.”

He nods. “Always turns them into something freaky and potentially dangerous.”

Now that Aziraphale has gotten all of that out, he stops kneading and deflates, staring out into the distance. “I just wanted it to be a nice creature, you know? And everyone seems to want to make everything harder for the humans.”

Raphael gently rests his hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder. “I don’t. They’re already going to have a hard enough time as it is, from what I’ve heard.” He gestures to his star chart now spread on his half of the table. “That’s why I’m doing this. It’s something nice they can look at, they might help make traveling easier, and it should be inspiring for them.”

Aziraphale smiles at him. “Well, it’s good to hear at least one angel is on my side, then.”

Silence ensues as they both get started on their work, the small sounds of pencil scratches occasionally filling it. Aziraphale spares a glance over at Raphael at one point, his red hair cascading onto the table as he holds his head in his hand, the end of his pencil resting in the corner of his mouth from his other hand as he looks over the charts in thought. Aziraphale looks away quickly, trying to hide how flustered he suddenly was.

As the sculpture in front of him grows, they continue to sit in comfortable silence. Once a vague shape with four legs is sitting in front of him on the table is when their silence is interrupted.

“Raven!” someone barks, and, surprisingly, Raphael’s head snaps up.

“Dove!” he smiles, drawing Aziraphale’s attention as well. Remiel stops in front of the table, placing her hands on her hips. 

"What happened to letting someone know the next time you leave? I’ve been looking for you for ages!”

“I didn’t want someone telling me I couldn’t.” He gestures over to Aziraphale, who gives a timid wave. “Angel here said I was welcome to bring my work over so I wasn’t alone.”

Remiel turns her disappointed look to Aziraphale. “Is that true?”

He nods quickly.

“How did you even find me?”

“Gabriel said you might be over here.” She looks back over to Raphael. “Are you really making the North Star and the brightest star different from each other?”

“It’s called _art_ , dove. You can’t judge it.”

“Yes, I can! You’re going to confuse everyone, raven!”

“I don’t mean to interrupt this, er, quarrel,” Aziraphale interrupts, “But what are those – nicknames you’ve given each other?”

Raphael turns to give an answer, mouth open, but then he falters, expression turning to confusion. He looks back to Remiel, asking, “What are the nicknames?”

She shrugs. “Don’t ask me. You were the one who started it.”

“But you still continued with a nickname of your own,” he retorts.

Aziraphale interrupts again before the bickering continues. “So… you both just started calling each other names that don’t exist?”

“Well, when you put it that way…” Raphael trails off. “I dunno. I suppose I imagine birds when I hear them.”

“Why don’t you make them, then?” he suggests. “That way the words actually exist?”

Remiel arches an eyebrow in consideration before turning around, moving to the empty table across from Aziraphale’s and sitting down on the other side to face them. She pushes the sleeves of her robe up and dives right into the bucket of clay sitting on the table. The two watch in curiosity as she starts to knead the clay before Aziraphale remembers his own sculpture in front of him. Moving back to it seems to also break Raphael out of his trance, picking up a pencil again and staring at the charts, but the two of them are still distracted, watching Remiel work more than they pay attention to their own.

Raphael manages to place a couple more stars on the chart, and Aziraphale finishes the vague head shape, but Remiel makes much more progress as she carefully sculpts small talons, balances the weight of the bird on stilt-like legs, and carves each individual feather into the outside.

“There,” she finally says, setting the sculpting tool down. Aziraphale and Raphael both look over to her, pretending they had actually focused on their work. “A Raven.”

The wet clay quickly dries, lightening in the same way it always does. When it dries out completely, the cracks soon overtake it, before a black-feathered bird with beady eyes shakes the pieces off, giving out a startled caw before spreading its wings and jumping up to Remiel’s shoulder to perch.

“It looks beautiful,” Aziraphale marvels. “That beak – how can you get it that sharp?”

She shrugs. “Just luck, I guess. But thanks.”

“You know, I don’t think I was expecting it to look like that,” Raphael says.

Crossing her arms, Remiel says, “Well, it’s not like you were the one to make the nickname, so of course you wouldn’t know what it’s like. But it has your eyes!”

“Haha,” he deadpans.

“Now it’s your turn.”

“What?”

“It’s your turn,” she repeats. “Aziraphale had a good point. In the event that we could both end up on Earth somehow for something or another, then we need raven and dove to be real things or people might question it. You were the one who said they sounded like birds, so, now you get to make the dove.”

Raphael scratches the back of his neck. “Oh, right. Of course. Unfortunately, I’m, uh, a little behind on these star charts, so I should really catch up on them before sculpting anything. How about you go turn that over to processing, fill out the paperwork and I’ll be sure to let you know when it’s done?”

She squints suspiciously at him before nodding. “Okay. I’ll be waiting for your message, then.”

As soon as Remiel is out of sight, a loud thunk startles Aziraphale, and a long, drawn-out sigh follows it. “Why does she have to do this to me,” Raphael mutters into the table. 

“Do what?”

He lifts his head off of the table and throws his arm in a dramatic gesture towards where they last saw her. “Why does she have to be so good at everything she does! She’s never been over here, and yet, she just made _that_! And now I have to make whatever a dove is, but I haven’t a clue on where to start!”

“Well, having the creativity of making the stars should help,” Aziraphale says, pressing his thumbs into the head of the sculpture for the eyesockets. 

“But those are _stars_!” He presses his lips together in a frown and squeezes his hands together, and when he lets them go, a small ball of light hovers between them. “I need the creativity for the placement. Making them is a piece of cake!” He lets the star fizzle out before resting his head in his hand again. 

“I was wondering why it seemed you had the sudden inspiration to work on the stars,” he jokes. “It seems like you jump at any opportunity to do something else.” When he glances over at Raphael and he still looks glum, Aziraphale sighs and says, “Well, you’ll never know until you try, will you?”

“I guess,” he mutters. “But I really should finish this first.”

~~~

Aziraphale has moved on from his previous sculpture, a Koala, and is hunched over a smaller one again. He hasn’t brought the magnifying glass over yet, not ready for the details yet, but he wants the wings to be symmetrical, so it might take a while. Raphael disappeared sometime while Aziraphale was at processing with the Koala, and he hasn’t returned yet.

A loud scraping noise from behind grates Aziraphale’s ears, and he winces until it stops, turning around. Raphael has taken the table behind him, and Aziraphale watches as he digs both hands into the bucket of clay and drops the mess on the table. 

“Did you turn those star charts in then?”

He nods, tongue sticking out in concentration. “I’m gonna try this out then while it gets processed. Then, when I finally have a dove I can shove in her face, I’ll be able to go and place them.”

“Good luck,” Aziraphale smiles, before turning back to his table.

Raphael is louder than most of the other angels who regularly spend their time here, muttering to himself as he works, and letting his tools clatter rather than setting them down gently. Aziraphale can’t help but chuckle at some of the things he hears, finding them rather endearing coming from Raphael.

Aziraphale finishes the last detail on his sculpture at the same time that Raphael says behind him, “Alright, I think I’m done.”

Turning around, Aziraphale opens his mouth to say something but finds himself having to carefully keep his expression neutral as he looks at the mess on Raphael’s table. “Is that – a dove?”

“No,” Raphael says, shaking his head at the same time. “This is just practice. I want to make sure the dove will be perfect.”

Aziraphale stands then and walks over to inspect it closer. “Not to be rude about your, er, artistic abilities, but where is its face?”

“Right here.” He points along a strange line on one side, and two dots above the line. 

“It just looks like a blob to me.”

“Well, yes, it should look like that,” he defends. “It’s called – a blobfish.”

Aziraphale’s face quickly grows concerned as the clay dries, and when the pink blob starts flopping around in the broken shards, he says, “Raphael!” With a quick miracle, he’s holding a bowl of water, which the fish gratefully jumps into. “You can’t just make a fish without being ready!”

Raphael groans and throws his head back. “Why do I suck so badly at this! I can’t back down now, I have to do this, but…” he looks back down and gestures sadly to the bowl. “Look at it. It’s so bad.”

Aziraphale gently hands it over to Raphael, lowering his voice to a comforting tone. “You have to be more mindful when creating life. Once it’s made, there is no changing it. We might be sculpting it, but you have to keep other things in mind as well. They aren’t just empty shells like the sculpture suggests – your mind is as much a part of making them as the clay.” He turns to his table and says, “Take the butterfly, for example.”

They wait for a few seconds before the orange and black butterfly leaps into the air and flutters over, landing on Aziraphale’s outstretched finger. He lifts it up to eye height so they can both see it better.

“The clay held the shape of the animal. What it didn’t hold was the colors of the wings, or the internal organs, or, for non-insectile animals, the skeleton. Once you know about those things, you can form the sculpture off of what you see in your head and bring it to life.”

Aziraphale stares at the butterfly for a few more seconds before letting his eyes focus on Raphael, standing behind the butterfly.

“It’s beautiful,” he finally says softly. “You’re so much better at this than I am.”

“I could help,” Aziraphale offers suddenly. “Nothing wrong with asking for help, and I’d be more than willing to teach you.”

Raphael smiles softly at him. “We should get these over to processing first. But yes. I think I’d like that.”

“Just don’t drop the bowl on the way over there?”

He laughs. “I won’t. I hope I get Gabe, I’d love to see his reaction to this.”

~~~

When Aziraphale and Raphael finally return to the tables, after Raphael goaded the angels into making over 17,000 different species of butterflies, they sit down together at Raphael’s table, and Aziraphale crosses his arms.

“Go ahead, then.”

“I thought you were going to teach me?”

“I’m going to watch first,” he says, pursing his lips. “It’s not like you kept us there forever.”

“I only wanted so many because they were all so beautiful!” he protests, pulling the clay towards himself.

“Then use that creativity and those ideas for your own thing!”

Raphael huffs but doesn’t press any further. Instead, he gathers a small lump of clay and places it on the table, kneading it until it’s moldable. He sits and stares at it for a few seconds before pinching off a small piece and rolling it out in front of him. He flattens it and starts trying to shape it, growing frustrated as it doesn’t work the way he wants it to.

“You can use the tools to shape it,” Aziraphale suggests gently. “You don’t have to do everything by hand.”

“Even shaping?”

He nods. “I usually just start with a vague form myself and use the tools to smooth the rough edges and determine what I actually want.”

“So…” he presses the clay a few more times before continuing. “I can keep it like this, and then fix the shape later?”

“Mhmm.”

“Okay then.” Some of the tension leaves his shoulders as he takes another piece of clay and does approximately the same thing. It’s when he tries to connect the two that he grows frustrated again.

“Like this,” Aziraphale says, gently reaching over and guiding Raphael’s hands to press the two pieces together. “Then you can add some more clay there to fix the shape up.”

Cheeks pink, Raphael says, “Oh.” He grows visibly more flustered as Aziraphale guides him a few more times, helping him attach the two long and curved pieces inside the two he already started.

“Do you know how to use the tools?”

“Not really,” he admits sheepishly.

“That’s okay.” Aziraphale stands and picks a curved loop tool up. “You can shave it down with these.” He hands it over to Raphael, gently correcting his fingers to hold it properly. Then, moving Raphael’s hand to the pile of clay still sitting and waiting for Raphael to form it, he holds Raphael’s hand and runs it across the surface, peeling off a small portion of the top layer. “That’s how you can smooth it,” he mutters into Raphael’s ear. Then, he takes his hand back up, carefully pressing the tool into the clay and pulling it back out and doing it again in a few locations, making a scale-like pattern. “And you can make details like this as well.”

They turn to face each other, lips only a hairsbreadth apart, before Aziraphale quickly pulls away. He stands straight up again, clearing his throat, his cheeks quickly flushing, but not a rival for Raphael’s cheeks.

“Thanks,” Raphael says to break the silence.

He nods. “Of course, my dear boy. I think it’s best if you try the rest by yourself. I, uh – I’ll be over here, I have another idea to start.” He then hurries back over to his own table, with his back to Raphael, taking deep, calming breaths. He risks a glance backwards, and watches as Raphael’s head goes back down, too interested in his work to have actually been looking at it. Aziraphale turns back to his work, pulling a fresh piece of clay over and trying to convince himself he was being ridiculous – nothing had happened, really, he was just helping a friend. He resolutely ignores the flush he had seen on Raphael’s cheeks, or the strange spark in his eyes, or the way that his own heart was trying to pound its way out of his chest. And he doesn’t even have a heart, not having a physical form. There certainly wasn’t anything else. He had just – he just taught a friend about sculpting with clay is all. 

“I think I’m finished,” Raphael says later, much calmer than he did the last time. Aziraphale had barely been able to focus on his sculpture, so he was glad for the distraction.

“Let’s see how you did then,” he jokes, standing and coming over to the table. He inspects the long rope of clay in front of him, saying the first thing that comes to mind. “I like the scale pattern, but – it doesn’t have any legs.”

“I adapted.” When Aziraphale raises his eyebrow in question, he sighs and admits, “I couldn’t pick up the head without messing it up. It has enough maneuverability to crawl around on the ground on its belly, though. Slither, really.”

“You could have asked.”

Raphael mutters something low enough that Aziraphale can’t hear. 

“What was that?”

“I said I wanted to impress you!” he repeats, pink rising high on his cheeks.

“Oh,” Aziraphale says, blinking away his surprise. “My dear, you don’t need to make an animal to impress me.”

“I… I don’t?” He looks down and fiddles with the hem of his sleeve. “I just thought… since you do so much around here… Making all of these creatures and everything – I thought I needed to do it all myself.”

“I’m not sure why you’d want to impress me, but, you didn’t need to use this. You’ve already impressed me.”

He looks up quickly. “I have?”

“I wouldn’t even _begin_ to know how to firm stars, and you just – pulled one out of thin air!” He makes a wild gesture with his hands as he says that. “ _That_ is impressive to me, dear.”

He flushes again. “It’s not that hard, once you learn how.” He then holds his hands out, palms up, towards Aziraphale. Let me show you.”

Aziraphale hesitates before gently placing his own hands in Raphael’s, palms up. “You have to think about what you want,” he starts, fingers ghosting the skin on the back of Aziraphle’s hands. “But it’s not what you would expect. Size, type, shape – throw all of that away. That will come. “It needs feelings – happiness, anger, surprise, embarrassment –”

“Love?” Aziraphale interrupts, his cheeks flushed.

He nods. “Give it anything you’ve got.”

Aziraphale nods back, focusing on his hands. “Okay. What’s next?”

“Focus on your emotions, and pretend you’re channeling them into your hands.” He pushes Aziraphale’s hands together, clasped between his. “If your hands tingle, you’re doing it right.”

“How do I know when it’s done?”

“You just – know.”

After a moment of silence, Aziraphale starts to open his hands, so Raphael opens his as well, still holding Aziraphale’s as they stare at the light in his hands.

“I messed up,” he pouts. “I made two.”

“I think it has character.”

“Really?”

Finally letting go of Aziraphale’s hands, Raphael plucks the two stars from Aziraphale’s hands, spinning them between his hands in examination. “Really. I like them. They’re a little close, but,” he shrugs. “They might be close enough to look like one star.”

Aziraphale furrows his brow. “You don’t mean – You’re going to put that star in the sky?” He starts to protest. “But – it didn’t even turn out right! Why would you –”

“If that mess of a blobfish has to be a thing the humans will see, then your star will be something too.” He pockets the star. “I think I’ll call it - Alpha Centauri.”

“Alpha Centauri,” Aziraphale repeats with a small smile. He then gestures to the table once more. “What of this?”

“Oh, right. The snake.”

Once the clay has crumbled away, Aziraphale watches curiously as Raphael sticks his hand out and the snake slithers across the table to him, wrapping around his forearm. “Is there even a skeleton in that thing?”

“Oh, angel, if only you _knew_ ,” he chuckles. “I may have thought to put in too much after the other fiasco.”

“Well, it seems efficient at least. You should head over to processing to get that done and over with before you forget.”

“I should drop this off too,” he says, patting his pocket. “Gonna have to find a place on the star chart – but that won’t be hard. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Right. Off you go, then. I’ll be here, working on…” he trails off as he gestures to the misshapen lump on his own table. “That.”

“I’ll give Gabe your regards! And try to convince him to keep the platypus away from most humans – honestly, you should have seen the thing when he finished.”

“I doubt it was as bad as the blobfish,” he teases.

“In a way, no. In another – yeah, I don’t think either of us should have started making creatures, and yet, here we are.” 

He says his goodbyes and leaves Aziraphale waving after him, a smile on his face that he can’t wipe away as he watches Raphael fade from sight.

~~~

“Alright, I think I’m ready.”

“For the dove?” Aziraphale turns around to talk to Raphael better. “Are you sure? You can still practice more, if you want.”

He nods, pulling a lump of clay onto the table. “If I put it off any longer, Remi’s gonna come and find me and it’ll make everything worse. I think I know what I want it to look like now. Besides, after taking the snake in, I don’t know how much more of processing I can handle.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know how you deal with them over there all the time.”

“Did you have Sandalphon?”

“Uh-huh.”

“How many did he get out of it?”

“Over three thousand. And he even changed some of them too! Making them poisonous or venomous – no one’s gonna like the snakes.”

“I’m sure some of them will,” Aziraphale tries to comfort. “You never know with the humans – from what I’ve begun to understand, no one is going to be the same. So, if someone absolutely hates them, then – someone would have to absolutely adore them too, right?”

He shrugs. “I guess we won’t know until they’re made, huh.” He stretches his arms out in front of him and cracks his knuckles. “Well, better get started.”

Aziraphale turns back around, picking up an oblong disk before using it to smooth the surface of his sculpture before he gets to the details. The underbelly of the four-legged statue is the hardest part, with barely enough room between it and the table for his hand, but he manages, making sure the ears are rounded some as well and not just triangles. 

Raphael seems eerily silent behind him, completely lost in his sculpture as he concentrates this time, and a glance back at him shows Aziraphale that his hands are completely covered in clay, and his tongue is peeking out of the corner of his mouth. When Raphael glances up, Aziraphale quickly turns back, fretting over the other tools before picking up a small, pointed stick and digging out the slitted pupil of the eyes. Below them, he draws a small, cornered triangle for the nose, and adds dots on either side.

From there, Aziraphale scratches the surface in seemingly random lines all over the statue and its long tail, imitating fur. It takes longer than one would think, because, even though they seem random, he is making them all the same size, length and depth-wise. If he changes it up, then there might be a random patch that’s longer than the rest, or a hairless rut instead of fur. Again, the underbelly gives him issues, so, by the time he’s finally done and sets the tool down to look it over, Raphael makes a satisfied hum from behind him. 

“I think that’s the best I’m going to get it.”

“What a funny coincidence,” Aziraphale says as he turns around again. “I just so happened to finish as well.”

“Well, I didn’t really add much detail to mine, so that’s understandable.” He steps back from the table and watches Aziraphale approach, fiddling with his thumbs. “What do you think?”

“I think it certainly looks like a bird,” he says, inspecting it. “And while you said you didn’t add much detail, I think it looks wonderful.”

Raphael smiles at him. “Thanks.” He then turns back to the table, saying, “There’s only one thing left now. The moment of truth.” He takes a deep breath. “Let’s see this dove.”

When the first white wing breaks free of the clay shell, he exhales shakily and excitedly.

“It worked,” he whispers, giggling before repeating, “It worked!” louder.

“You did it,” Aziraphale smiles, watching the dove’s head break free.

“I did it!” he yells, grabbing Aziraphale’s shoulders and pulling him in, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips in his excitement. “I did–” he cuts himself off as he takes in the flustered look growing on Aziraphale’s face, his own flushing hot with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I got caught up in the moment.”

“It’s… It’s alright, my dear,” he says, growing impossibly redder.

“It – it is?”

“Mhmm,” he nods. And, to prove his point, he takes a hold of Raphael’s cheek, pulling him back in for a longer, more meaningful kiss as their lips connect once more, their eyes fluttering closed as Raphael’s hand comes to rest on Aziraphale’s cheek. When they part, quietly gasping for breaths they don’t even need, they rest their foreheads together, opening their eyes once more and smiling warmly at each other.

The insistent cooing from the table next to them brings them back to reality, pulling apart and laughing as the dove eyes them impatiently. 

“I think it’s time to get this lady to Remi,” Raphael says, holding his arm out before the dove jumps into the air and lands on it, preening its feathers to get rid of any hidden clay. “Care to join me?”

“Of course.” He smiles warmly at him before breaking his gaze to turn back to his table. “Just let me get my housecat.”

“What’s a housecat?”

“Oh, I just – all these felines that fellow angels are making are giant. I thought it would be nice to have a smaller one that might keep the human’s company in their own homes.” The cat stalks across the table to Aziraphale, where it jumps up to his shoulder and sits down, purring into Aziraphale’s ear before licking its paw.

“I like it,” he smiles. Then, extending the arm that the dove isn’t on, he says, “Shall we?”

Aziraphale takes his hand, interlocking their fingers. “We shall.”

They find Remiel in a different part of Heaven, surrounded by sheet music. “Oh, dove!” Raphael calls, announcing his presence. “I’ve brought something!”

“It seems you have,” she says, looking up from her work with a bemused grin. “It took you long enough.”

“What do you mean? I said I’d get the dove done once I finished other work! That’s what I did.”

“Oh, is that what’s on your arm?”

“Is that–” He stops to shake his head. “If you didn’t know what this was, then what were you talking about?”

She gestures to their interwoven hands, making them both look down and look back up quickly with a pink tint to their cheeks, but they don’t let go. “If I had to sit here and watch you get all starry-eyed as you talked about Aziraphale one more time, I was going to go find him myself and ask him out for you.”

“I – you – why didn’t you say anything?!”

Shrugging, she stands and walks closer to them. “I’m glad you did it on your own though. Probably would have been really embarrassing for you. Now, let me see this dove!”

Aziraphale gives Raphael’s hand a reassuring squeeze as Remiel inspects the bird. Rapahel squeezes back in thanks.

“What do you think?”

Remiel smiles. “It’s beautiful, Raph.”

He cracks a smile. “Is that a nickname I hear? An unprovoked nickname?”

“You know, sometimes I really do hate you.”

Chuckling, he changes the subject. “I really am glad you like it, though. It was hard to figure out.”

“You should have seen some of his warm-up animals,” Aziraphale teases, giggling when Raphael gasps dramatically.

“Betrayal right at the start! Angel, I trusted you!”

“And I bet you had to get his help, too,” Remiel chimes in, giggling along with Aziraphale.

“I don’t need this hammering from both sides!” Flustered, he pulls away from Aziraphale and walks away, yelling behind him, “I’m going to processing! When I get back, you two better have gotten over this giggling fit!”

They continue to giggle as they watch him walk off until the cat nips at Aziraphale’s ear, startling him as he remembers it. “Oh, I better go after him and get this through processing too.”

“I am glad you two found each other. I want you to know that.”

Aziraphale beams at her. “You really think so?”

She nods.

His smile turns into a frown as he glances at the sky before voicing his one fear. “Do you – do you think She’s okay with it?”

Remiel sighs. “ I can’t say for sure, Aziraphale. But I have taken a few trips through the love department, and honestly, you two are meant to be. There’s no other way. So, in my honest opinion, I don’t know why she wouldn’t.”

Nodding, a trace of the smile appears back on his face. “Thank you, Remiel. I should really get after him before he causes trouble.”

“Yes. Please do that.” She waves goodbye as he hurries off, yelling after him, “Tell him to stay away from Ba’al and Lucifer! He’s going to get into trouble if he keeps hanging around them!”

~~~

Once God has finished her story, She’ll sigh, saying something about “the good old times.” You might ask Her what happened to these two angels, for surely, for a story over 6000 years old, it could not be the same today. She’d agree with you. Nothing ever stays the same. Nothing, except for love. She’ll then pull over some photos of earth, some very old and some modern, where an angel named Aziraphale and a demon named Crowley interact with each other – eating food, talking, holding hands: for love is the one thing that stays true, no matter the differences.

**Author's Note:**

> Come over [here on tumblr](https://pearlll09.tumblr.com/); I'm always open to talk!


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